


Bodies

by hey_its_kaz



Category: South Park
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Cheating, Child Abuse, Drug Use, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Summaries, M/M, Past Child Abuse, This Is Sad, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Prostitution, Underage Sex, im sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hey_its_kaz/pseuds/hey_its_kaz
Summary: Stan is too caught up in the past while everyone around him begins to grow up.
Relationships: Clyde Donovan/Bebe Stevens, Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Eric Cartman/Wendy Testaburger, Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh, Stan Marsh/Craig Tucker, Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger, Token Black/Nichole Daniels
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	1. One

The night was relatively quiet, considering the fact it was early September in the mountains of Colorado, which means it was already chilled over before the start of school. The stretch of highway was lifeless, with creatures easily crossing to the other side. But the silence was disrupted with a pale blue minivan roaring down, violently swerving across the striped lines, leaving behind fresh skid marks and an echo of chaotic laughter.  
Inside sat five boys, cheering at nothing and passing around multiple bottles of different types of liquor.  
Kenny and Butters were in the back, their moans drowned out by Cartman yelling as they drove ninety down the highway. He had his eyes squeezed shut as he sang along to some early twenties pop song.  
Stan tried to keep his eyes on the road, but struggled to pay attention. Another bottle of mysterious liquid was passed back up to him and he took a quick swig, unsure of why he was designated driver and wondering when the plans had changed.  
Butters had quickly volunteered to drive at the beginning of their party hopping adventure, but between the fifth and sixth house, Stan was close to blackout. Yet here he was, driving.  
Kyle reached forward in between the driver and passenger seats, pulling the small lever back that opened the sun roof. With drink in hand, he stumbled up and placed a booted foot on the center console. He was in a deep laugh as he hoisted himself up through the opening, taking a long gulp from the vodka. Stan reflexively grabbed his waist when he noticed him begin to lean.  
It was cold, no doubt, and it burned Kyle's cheeks more than the amount of alcohol he had consumed in the past few hours. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but his mouth was wide with a huge grin on his wet lips. Stan glanced up through the crack, the breath he went to take getting caught in his throat at the sight of his best friend. Hours ago, he promised to only get tipsy, constantly watching himself in attempts to not lose control.  
But those plans were thrown out the window. Quite literally. Cops had shown up to the last house party they had crashed, and Kyle had thrown himself through a window at the sight of an authority, screaming out "FUZZY!" at the top of lungs with an armful of half empty bottles of booze.  
A new song came on; one of Kyle's favorites, and he made a of sound of excitement, kicking Cartman with a lot of more force than he thought with expectations of him turning it up louder.  
_"EY!_ Control your fuck buddy, Stanley!" Cartman groaned, but reached for the dial anyway, and the music grew surprising louder, which made Kyle cheer. His arms shot up, the vodka sloshing around in its containment. He took yet another large mouthful as he clumsily danced around, completely off tempo.  
Stan looked up again, remembering where his hand was. It had started to burn seconds before, now realizing it had slid up under his shirt and onto the soft skin of his side. He looked forward again, focusing on the road as his hand crawled up further, groping at hotter skin the higher he went.

**

Their car pulled up to another house party, still full of high schoolers escaping the dread of tomorrow. Kyle waved to the ones hanging around outside with both hands and a full smile. Stan removed his hand, now tugging on the jeans around his thighs. Kyle climbed out and slid down the windshield, Stan racing around to the front to catch him. Kyle giggled, eyes dilated and cheeks a deep red.  
"Alright, kids, last party. Stay as long as needed and walk your sorry asses back home." Eric muttered to their group before wandering into the house. Kyle looked around with squinted eyes, but they shot open at the sight of the big mansion in front of him.  
"This's Token's 'ouse!" Kyle grasped Stan's shoulders with a new found excitement, which called for more support. "I know where w'are!"  
Stan was giggling the whole time as he dragged Kyle with him into the house. The walls seemed to physically shake from how deep the bass was. People were wall to wall and they were all faces Stan didn't recognize. Kyle continued to greet people all around him while stan pulled him towards the basement door, hoping to find his classmates down there.  
Kyle was released after they safely made it down the stairs, who went straight to the booze table. He scanned the bottles and traded his nearly empty bottle of Grey Goose for some expensive looking whiskey probably supplied by Token. His taste buds were officially shot, so the mix of the two flavors had no effect on him as he down some of the golden liquid. As he wandered around Tokens' nostalgic basement for what felt like an eternity, he bumped back into Stan who leaned into the new touch.  
Stan had a lopsided grin when he turned to see the new face, and Kyle smiled back, swirling his bottle in Stan's face to show him the new liquor he thought would be a good idea to consume.  
"You're a lightweight." Stan's smile grew as Kyle's face turned more red. "Here, inhale," Stan reached up and put a small stick of something between Kyle's lips. He didn't move and did as told, a skunk-y smoke filling his lungs. He held down his cough, instead blowing it back out into Stan's mouth that was partially open from the focus of watching Kyle.  
"I'm gonna find K'nny.." Kyle pulled away from Stan, blunt still stuck in his mouth.  
"Don't go far, we gotta leave soon."  
"Soon" turned into another two hours still at the Black residence. The kids from different school districts had finally dissipated, reopening the first floor for all of the South Park kids.  
It was four in the morning when Stan had finally found Kyle. He had his head down in the kitchen sink, Kenny leaning on the counter next to him. At first Stan thought he was puking, but when he lifted his head, Stan was slightly blinded by the red curls of Kyle's hair. He turned around, thumbing one of his nostrils and handing Kenny a large shard of glass with white dust divided into lines.  
As Kenny was pulling away, Kyle grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. He picked up the rolled dollar again a took down another line with the opposite nostril. "Okay.." he stood up straight again and slapped Kenny's shoulder with a grin. "'m good. See you t'morrow.."  
Kyle looked up and saw Stan, who watched with a cocked eyebrow. "It's four, your mom will freak if you're not in bed when she checks." He reached for Kyle's wrist, but Kyle instead wrapped his fingers around Stan's hand, leaning into him as they pushed their way towards the front door.  
The walk home was as eventful as every party they had been to; both of them mentioning some of the things that they could still remember, Stan reminding Kyle of their story someone came up with (he couldn't remember) before their adventure in case any of their parents ask, which Kyle would respond "yeah Stan, I know. I came up with it." Half way through their walk, Stan threw up in Mr. Donovan's bushes and Kyle almost passed out from a nose bleed in front of the Valmer residence. By the time they reached Kyle's house, Stan had Kyle in his arms bridal style, dried blood caked around his nose and mouth. His head lolled into the crook of Stan's arm and chest, groaning as he climbed the stairs and entered Kyle's room.  
He flicked on a bedside lamp when Kyle was finally put down. Stan fetched a damp hand towel and gently wiped away the blood from Kyle's face. Kyle watched, a smile forming on his lips as Stan held him. His hand slowly lifted to the others face, stroking the cheek bone that had started to stick out from his days at the gym.  
"You're pretty." Kyle blurted, but he didn't seem embarrassed. His cheeks were tinted from the alcohol still in his system, and thankfully there was still enough that continued to keep his brain hazy.  
"And you're pretty drunk." Stan placed the towel on the nightstand, keeping his eyes locked into the bright green ones that seemed to stare into his soul. "You need to sleep, dude."  
"No.." Kyle moved his other hand up to Stan's face, pulling him closer. Their noses bumped, but Kyle still kept his eyes on Stan's, moving closer as if he wanted to _watch_ his reaction, rather than watch _for_ a reaction.  
"I need you."


	2. Chapter 2

Blaring was what woke Stan today. It was better than a sudden urge to vomit, but he assumed it'd come later into the morning. The mattress dipped next to him, and a deep groan emitted from his left.  
He pushed himself up, baring the head rush and turning off the alarm. He was naked when he stood up, causing a sigh to slip through his lips. He slid into some underwear and a pair of sweats he found in the corner of his room. He then moseyed into the bathroom, rubbing at his burning eyes. Toothbrush in mouth, he looked at his dry eyes. They were red, and deep bags accompanied the stoned look it seemed he was going to wear for a Wednesday.  
He returned to his room, reaching for a shirt in an open drawer when he made eye contact with Craig, who shot daggers at the other as he scratched at his chest. His hair was a mess, but his eyes didn't give away what had happened the night before. A groan erupted from Stan as he pulled the shirt over his head, being more aggressive than how he meant to come across.  
"Tell Tweek, and I'll-"  
"'Kill me' yeah, I know. You say it every time…" He rolled his eyes, which landed onto his dresser. He reached for the essentials before he usually left his house: wallet, phone, earbuds, a small bag of edibles that had been nibbled on. His keys were taken after coming home late while drunk driving, so he'd stand at the bus stop and wait with the other three. Like the good 'ole days…  
He also grabbed a pair of sunglasses and put them on, Craig scoffing at the act.  
"What are you trying to hide, Marsh? No one would be surprised." He stood, thankfully in a pair of boxers. He crossed the room to get dressed, grabbing articles of clothing from different areas around the bed.  
"Just trying to be a good son, like you would know anything about that." Stan slipped into his usual Adidas's, forcefully sliding his feet across the floor to set them in place. "Don't need my poor mother worrying about me."  
Craig smirked as he looked Stan up. "Your shirt's backwards." He was dressed and went for the door, shouldering Stan before reaching the knob. Stan went to turn it around, eyebrows narrowed and lips tight. "And inside out." Craig then shut the door, greeting Stan's mom and leaving, slamming the front door on his way out. Stan let out a few curses as he ripped of the shirt and put it back on. He was fucking with him.  
He was out the door after giving his mother's cheek a quick kiss, muttering a small "love ya" before leaving, still adorn with the shades. He was thankful she didn’t ask. The walk sucked, as usual. His shoes were coated with snow and his toes were most likely white, his right earbud was dead which gave him a headache, and being hungover before getting on a noisy bus always put him in a sour mood.  
As he reached the stop, he growled. It was only Kenny, who was busy with something on his phone rather than his surroundings. But he shook his head, angry with himself for thinking anyone else would be here.  
Kenny finally looked up, wearing a grin to great his old friend. "What the _fuck_ are you doin' here?"  
"Keys were taken." He pushed out a response, already tired of the banter.  
"Damn.." Kenny pocketed his phone, looking on at the road. Kenny couldn’t afford a car, and didn't bother asking his dad to borrow his rickety piece of shit he calls a 'Pick-'em-up Truck.' "Well, nice shades, Stud Muffin. Party a lil' too hard?"  
Stan scoffed, rolling his eyes with a smirk. "Look who's talking."  
The bus had finally pulled up, and Kenny rushed forward, falling into his usual seat in the far back so he could smoke. Stan sat across from him, leaning back as his eyes involuntarily closed. The two passed a clear between each other until the bus stopped at the high school.  
The hallways were crowded and too loud. And Kenny had ditched him a few paces back after finding Butters, so he was left alone and vulnerable to his other dreadful classmates. Like the two that were catching up to him now.  
"Yo, Marsh!" Clyde's voice shot a pain through Stan's head, having to adjust his glasses from the reaction. "Ready for the game? I'm fuckin' _pumped."_ His hand had clapped onto Stan's shoulder, and he turned his rather loud groan into a sarcastic chuckle he hoped Clyde would buy. When the hell did his shoulder get fucked? He dipped out of his grasp, instead throwing his arm over Clyde. He wasn't short, but nobody except Craig and Token had surpassed his height.  
"Yeah, man. Gotta make sure to kick some major ass, huh?"  
"S-s-says the fuckin' q-quarterback." Jimmy finally spoke up, grinning as he kept up with the others. "You k-kick ass in y-your s-s-sleep."  
"You better catch me making the best throw of my year and put that shit the news, paper boy." Stan chuckled, punching his shoulder. Jimmy laughed back with a nod.  
"Yeah- and my best run!" Clyde poked out from around Stan, eyebrows creased in concern.  
Stan drowned out their voices as they walked towards Kyle's locker. He felt his heart sink when he looked up, books clutched to his chest. He blinked, then rolled his eyes with a scoff, walking past them after slamming his locker shut in his presence.  
It was getting closer to winter break, and rounding out the remainder of football season with their last thanksgiving game coming up this Saturday. He thought of what Kyle would do for thanksgiving, since their families usually come together every year.  
It was different now. After Randy died, Shelly ran away with Kenny's older brother to God knows where, and Sharon finally retired after selling the farm. She's set for life.  
He remembers Kyle coming to the funeral, keeping Ike close to his side as his parents left to comfort what was left of the Marsh's. Stan tried to keep himself hidden, nodding whenever someone caught him and gave the usual spiel of "I'm so sorry for your loss, Stanley" that was shaken by tears and always ended with a uncomfortably tight hug.  
He remembers Ike running over and jumping into his arms, not speaking or crying, but the sorrow was deep and noticeable. That was the only hug that wasn't forced and uncomfortable. Kyle apologized, but kept his eyes on Ike, who still clung to Stan like a lost monkey.  
"It's fine. You know how I felt about him."  
"It's still your dad." His tone had shifted into disgust at the remark, and he finally caught his eyes.  
"He was a drunk fuck who only gave a damn because of my career." Stan shot back, not in the mood to talk shit about his dad at his own funeral. "You think I want to be here? I'm here for my mom and the free food. Don't like it? Then leave. It's not like it's your dad."  
"Do you have respect for anyone?" Kyle snapped. Ike had pulled away, but still held onto Stan. "What- are you some kind of big shot now because you can throw a ball real far? Wow, congratulations!" They kept their voices low, bickering like some old married couple.  
"You obviously think so, since you come to every fucking game!"  
"You think I go for the game? I go for my friends and my relationships. If I wanted to sit around watching some boys throw balls around I'd just stay home and watch gay porn."  
"You're disgusting." Stan shook his head with a laugh, looking over at the casket where his father was. He gave Ike another tight hug before letting go, realizing he was holding his shoulders, as if to keep him in place. He faltered for a beat after remembering how his dad did that, too, around Ike's age after every game as they walked back to the car. "You're obviously not here for me, so speak your blessings to my mom and leave." And with that, he sauntered up to him mom, eyebrows creases as she fell into his hug, sobs racking through her small frame.  
Kyle looked on, gently shaking his head as he pulled Ike back to him. "Dick." He muttered under his breath, hoping Ike didn’t hear him.  
"What's wrong with Stan..?" Ike looked up, "Besides the fact his dad just died…"  
"He's coping. C'mon, let's find mom."  
"Stan- hey, the bell rang. You comin' or what?" Clyde pulled him back with a waving hand in front of his face. He jumped and flicked his hand away.  
"Yeah, yeah, don't wait up."

**

By third period, Stan's day was over, thanks to filling up the rest of his electives with bullshit classes he endured throughout his high school experience. All he had to do was sit and watch the board as his fat professor poorly explained what had happened during one of the many revolutions around the world. This was the only class he had with Kyle, since he was practically a born genius. There wasn't much room for smart kids in a history class, and God decided fate must be this way.  
But he hasn't showed up to class in about two weeks. In fact, the only time Stan can remember seeing him is in the mornings, stuffing papers and books into his backpack before heading towards the front doors, pushing past Stan with an elbow or a shoulder.  
Stan caught himself staring at the entrance, reminded of his old elementary days. He use to light up when Kyle walked in, calling him over as if he'd never been in the room before, and Stan had saved him a seat. Now, they'd glance, usually with a scowl, before he took the desk farthest from Stan.  
Craig walked in through his line of sight, Tweek snuggled up into the crook of his arm. Stan's stomach turned as he watched them take their seats together, small snippets of last night finally resurfacing with Craig flipping him over and rearranging his organs for hours on end. He flexed his bad shoulder, wincing as he pulled back the collar to see a deep purple hand print. He shifted, trying to release any tension built up in his shoulder by sliding down in his chair, his upper back resting against the back which helped somewhat.  
He had finally closed his eyes, drifting off behind his dark shades to finally catch the needed sleep his body has been lacking, but the door swung open, disrupting class as it fell into a silence. Stan looked, eyebrows twitching at the sight of Kyle walking through the door. He held a stack of papers in a tight grip, crossing the room and placing crinkled packets of homework, mostly likely stapled in order from newest to oldest, on the teachers desk. The teacher nodded his thanks before pointing at the only empty desk for him to take a seat.  
It was next to Stan's.  
Stan straightened, clearing his throat and Kyle fell into the desk to his right. The smell of soup and disinfectant hit his nose like a bus, making him glance at Kyle. His eyes were red and rimmed with a pool of wetness. His chest heaved, as if he was trying to control his breathing, and his bottom lip quivered as he scribbled the date into his notebook with shaky hands.  
Nobody was paying attention to them after Stan did a quick scan around the room. He opened his binder for the first time since Junior year, only to rip out a piece of lined paper and close it again. He grabbed a pen he didn't know he had from is sweatpants and jotted down a quick _'u ok?'_ He discretely passed it over to Kyle, poking his forearm with the paper.  
It was returned with an aggressive shove into his side with the words in dark graphite _'Why the hell do you care?'_  
_'because ur crying now'_  
Kyle quickly touched his face, wiping a stray tear that began to glide down his burning cheek.  
_'It's none of your business. You'll find out sooner or later, anyway.'_  
The bell had rung, and Kyle was gone, leaving Stan with a crumpled ball of paper as he watched Kyle exit.  
He walked home when everyone was at lunch, looking over the paper that he tried to straighten out the best he could.  
_You'll find out sooner or later_  
The words wouldn't leave his mind as he traced Kyle's sloppy cursive with his thumb. He ran over scenarios of what his words could be referring to, but Kyle hadn't talked to him since the beginning of their senior year. It could mean anything.  
He pushed the door open, shoving the paper into the same pocket as his mystery pen as he called out to his mom. There wasn't a response, so he called out again, asking what was for dinner. There was a shaky gasp from the kitchen, and then a sob.  
"Mom?!" He rushed in, seeing her hunched over the table with her phone resting in her hand. "Mom, what happened- are you okay?" He fell to her side, kneeling as he grabbed her free hand, posing like some kind of prince Charming.  
Her head shook when she sat up, tears wrecking her pale cheeks, "No, honey," She leaned forward, wrapping him into a hug. "Sheila died, this morning."  
The kitchen fell silent, only soft sobs echoed around the old drywall.


	3. 3

The funeral was Friday, news to Stan.  
Thursday was a fucking blob of nothing but confusion.  
They had takeout for their Thanksgiving feast. And he was still hungry afterwards.  
His mom ran to the dry cleaners with her dress and his suit later that night, so he let Craig in. They did what they usually did; smoke, drink, then fuck. Stan only drank until he felt his cheeks tingle, and only smoked enough to get a mouse relaxed. He wasn't interested, and he didn’t finish when Craig had. The bed jumped when he fell to Stan's left, already dead weight and snoring.  
Stan stumbled into the bathroom, cleaning up as he pissed. He didn't bother looking into the mirror when he washed his hands. His head swam with what would happen tomorrow. Would he talk to Kyle? How's Ike? Is he going to be a prick or will he just leave early?  
It was late, and when he fell into bed, he dreamed of his dad, and an old hunting trip with Ned and his Uncle Jimbo. Kyle was there, too, but he was silent with a permanent smile seemingly glued to his face the entire time.  
Craig was gone when he woke up, and his eyes fell onto his suit hanging from the top of his closet door. He groaned, throwing on some underwear before gently removing the plastic bag.  
The last time he wore this suit was his dads funeral. He got high in it with Kenny after the burial, far from the group as they leaned against an oak tree by some 'Julie Hampton' buried way back in the early 1900's.  
He took one last look over in the mirror, tightening his tie and grabbing the essentials before leaving the house.  
Sharon stood at the foot of the steps, handing Stan his keys when he reached her. "You drive." She said with a smile.  
"Thanks, mom." She touched his chest, running over the tie with her glossy nails.  
"You look very handsome." She smirked, making him scoff with a smile. "But let's hope the next time you wear this, it's for a better occasion."  
"Yeah.." They headed out the door, Stan making sure it was locked before climbing into his truck. He checked to see if his mom was comfortable, and with her nod, they rolled out of the driveway and towards the funeral home Gerald had emailed to her the night before.  
He had to park behind Token's new Audi. Stan dropped out and rushed to the passenger side to help his mother, holding her hand as she gently hopped down from the rather tall drop. They walked in through the doors, Stan glancing back as he locked his truck to see an older man stick a flag to his window.  
It was surprisingly crowded, but Kyle was nowhere to be seen. Ike sat in the front row seating of the service, shoulders bobbing as he silently sobbed. Sharon spotted Gerald, who was talking to Clyde's dad. She touched his shoulder, then left to comfort Gerald.  
Stan looked over at Ike again, stomach sinking at the sight. He strolled over, slowing as Ike's face came into view. He was staring straight ahead, eyes motionlessly dead on his mother's closed casket.  
He took the seat next to him, wrapping his arm around Ike's shoulders, and he immediately fell into him.  
"Ike, bud," Stan pulled him away, looking into his watery, brown eyes. "Come on, let's go somewhere else. Okay?"  
Ike only nodded, letting Stan drag him back outside. It was colder than he remembered, November's icy winds pushing his hair back. They sat at the steps, Ike sniffling as he leaned into Stan's arm.  
"Breast cancer." He muttered. Stan blinked, but stayed quiet, knowing Ike needed to talk. "And it was fast. She was diagnosed like.. A month ago."  
Stan was still silent, trying to remember ever seeing Kyle at school during the month of October. It was mostly a blur of drugs and sex, like most of the past months.  
"Well, was she on chemo? I thought that stuff helped..?"  
"She never went back to the hospital after her diagnoses. She didn't want to. And when dad heard this, they divorced.."  
Stan coughed, taken back. "Wait- what?!"  
"Yeah, Kyle didn't tell you?" Ike looked up, still crying, but with a cocked eyebrow. "I know he didn't mention the cancer part to anyone, but I thought everyone knew about the divorce..?"  
"No. He never told me." His chest felt hot, and his fist was clenched. They might not talk as much, but when did withholding important information from Stan become the norm? "Is that why he wasn't at school?"  
"Well.. Dad moved into an apartment after, and mom got really sick. So Kyle stayed home and took care of her, because no one would pay for one of those 'stay at home' nurses."  
The anger left, but was replaced with guilt. The heat wore off, and he was cold again. "I'm sorry.."  
Ike wiped his nose with his sleeve, no longer crying, but left over tears still cascaded his cheeks every now and then. "I think the whole thing is bullshit now." Ike flinched at himself for swearing, but brushed it off with squinted eyes. "I mean, dad has to move back in, because Kyle's still seventeen. They hate each other now. Kyle's pissed because of the divorce every time he sees dad, and when it's not the divorce, he's pissed because dad has to move back in. Even if it's until Kyle's birthday."  
"Gerald's still gonna leave?" Stan's anger was back. He could really use one of Kenny's blunts right now. He didn't expect all of this today.  
"Yeah, and he says he'll take online classes for college, because he doesn't want dad taking care of me.."  
Stan stood, breathing hard. "Where’s Kyle?"  
"Wait, Stan!" Ike grabbed his sleeve, a deep frown that caused his dimples to show. "Don’t do anything.. Okay? Kyle told me not to tell you, because he knew you'd probably go after dad today."  
Stan faltered, "so why'd you tell me..?"  
Ike's head dropped, and the tips of his ears went red. "I miss you. You haven't been around for like, a year. It's nice to talk to you." He picked his head up again, a sad smile glaring at Stan.  
He sighed. "I know. A lot happened.." He pulled away, ruffling Ike's hair with a smirk. "I'll meet you inside, okay?"  
Ike nodded, leaving Stan on the steps of the funeral home.  
He was boggled, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He'd respect Ike by leaving it how it was, but he was going to talk to Kyle soon.  
He took back what he said about smoking, afraid it would make him more anxious than anything. With a shake of his head, he turned back into the building, nodding at the lady taking coats.  
He stood in the door way, glancing around the room until his heart dropped. There stood Kyle, Ike close to his side. Stan moved closer, tilting his head at Kyle's presences. Something was off.  
An older woman was talking to him, and he'd nod every once in a while, obviously not caring. But the way he stood irked Stan. He got close enough when it hit him.  
Kyle was baked. But it was more so than how weed would 'bake' you. He must have popped some kind of Xanax, because he was completely expressionless. His pupils were dilated, and he leaned on Ike as if he was going to fall. When she walked away after giving them another hug, Stan rushed up to him, eyebrows narrowed.  
"Kyle-"  
"Don't talk t'me right now, Stanley." They wandered to the food table, Stan watching as he grabbed a handful of mini sandwiches. "Whatev'r you have to say can't _possibly_ be important enough to discuss at my mother's funeral." As he spoke, his body leaned back from the table, and Stan had to grab the small of his back to keep him to from toppling over. But he was pushed away with a sharp "Don’t fucking touch me." Ike had left after this, noticing Token ushering him over.  
"Kyle, you're fucking high, and people will notice how sloppy you are right now." Stan drew his lips back when Kyle stuffed one in his mouth, eyes dead on Stan's. "Control yourself."  
"I don't have t'do shit." He pulled away more when Stan reached for his sandwiches. "Why'd you even show up?"  
"Gerald called Wednesday," Kyle rolled his eyes at the sound of his father's name. "What are you on?" He snapped.  
Kyle shrugged with a grin. "I dunno, whatev'r Kenny gave me." He finished his last sandwich, wiping his hands together to rid of crumbs. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to speak to my relatives." He then patted his suit pocket with a smile, which crinkled a plastic bag under the sudden pressure.  
"No, Kyle-" Stan grabbed his bicep, turning him around. Kyle sputtered and tripped over his feet from the force. "What the hell is wrong with you?"  
"Bullshit, Stan. Don’t come after me 'cause I'm high at my mom's funeral. You smoked with Kenny the second your dad was six feet under." He then smirked, "I'm just ahead of the game."  
"Okay," Stan huffed and held out his hand, bending his first fingers as he said "Hand them over."  
Kyle laughed, a little too loudly, as he shoved Stan's arm off of him. "Are you serious?"  
"Unless you want to 'O.D.', cough 'em up." Stan growled, "How many have you taken?"  
"I'm not five. I can take pills without dying."  
"Alright, big boy." Stan crossed his arms, "How strong are they? Do you know how many you can take within a certain amount of time because of how strong they are? How 'bout if it's mixed with something else-"  
"Alright! Jesus, shut the fuck up." He grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the kitchen. "I'm not having this conversation with you." He still slurred, but was able to control it with speaking louder.  
"I could get away with it because I didn't have someone to watch over." A scoff escaped his throat, "you have a little brother. I talked to him about your mom, and the divorce, which you forgot to share."  
Kyle groaned, running his hands down his face.  
"He's neglected, Kyle. With you being busy, Sheila dying, and Gerald absent. The poor kid's probably going crazy."  
"You don't need to remind me, thanks."  
"He needs you today."  
"Fuck you, Stan." Kyle shoved his chest, noticing him growing closer. "Don't try some bullshit like that- don’t guilt trip me." He paced, pulling his hair back with a grunt. "You think it's easy? You think I'm mentally okay, watching my mom die, not being able to do anything?"  
"That's not-"  
"No! It _is_ what you mean! You have an adult in your life who didn’t fucking leave. You have your mom. I barely have Gerald."  
"Well, maybe if you'd lay off the poor man, you two would be okay-"  
"Oh really?" Kyle flexed, fists clenching and his jaw tight. "Yeah, thank you for fixing my relationship with my father. Now, why don't you fix yours?"  
"Don't do that, Kyle."  
"Maybe it'd help with the 'confusion' you have about your sexuality!"  
"Kyle-"  
"Then maybe your mom wouldn't be so mentally absent!"  
Stan grabbed his throat, pushing him up against one of the stainless steel counters with a growl. "Don't fucking talk about my mom, you prick."  
"What're you going to do, Stan?" Kyle jerked, clawing at Stan's wrists. "Gonna kill me? Snap my neck?" Then he smirked. "Or will you kiss me? Maybe bend me over and fuck me. Well?"  
They stayed stationed for a second, Stan contemplating what might happen here. But he let go, dropping Kyle with a breath.  
"That's what I thought." Kyle smoothed down his suit, avoiding Stan's gaze. "You'll never change, Stan." When he straightened his spine, he smoothed down his curls. They were recently cut, and were styled to rid of his crazy 'jew-fro.' He liked his hair like this, soft to the touch and frizz-less.  
Kyle chuckled, his hands pressed against the doors out into the service. "You're obviously not here for me, so speak your blessings to my brother _and leave."_ He pushed the doors open, clearing his throat and nodding at some of the stares with a polite smile.  
Stan left the kitchen, ignoring some of the wandering eyes as he made his way towards his mom, re buttoning his jacket that came undone during their 'discussion.'

**

The service wasn't as expected; it was silent as people filled in the rows of seats, things were said in Hebrew Stan couldn't understand, and of course Gerald had to speak before they were all excused to leave for the burial. Kyle still didn't cry, but at least comforted his brother.  
When they all left to their cars, he watched Kyle dry swallow another two pills out the corner of his eye as he guided his mother to his truck.  
The drive was awkward, his knuckles white from the grip on the steering wheel as they rolled a slow fifteen down the main road. He focused on the back of Token's car, now having his license plate memorized.  
"Honey," Sharon reached over, gently rubbing his shoulder to drag him from his trance. "Is everything okay?"  
"He didn’t even cry. Like, I didn't cry at Randy's funeral but I still looked sad. He was.. Dead. I don’t know.." Stan sighed, following the Audi in front of him as it began to turn into the graveyard.  
"Well, you have to consider the fact that he took care of her." Sharon leaned forward to try and catch is son's eye, eyebrows creased in concern. "He might not look it, but he must be dying on the inside."  
Stan scoffed with a smirk. _Fuck yeah he is. He's probably gonna fall into that fucking grave with her._ He put his truck in park and sat back with a wicked grin as he watched Token and Nichole step out and head towards the Broflovski's.  
"Don’t say things like that, Stan." Sharon sighed as she pushed the heavy door open, "and watch your language."  
Stan flushed, scratching his neck as his mother crossed the front of his truck. He really just has to stop thinking.  
He caught up with them when Ike was handed a shovel. He felt his heart drop for the hundredth time today as he watched him shakily kick dirt into his mother's grave after she was lowered. Kyle was next, and Stan's statement almost came true when he stumbled over his feet to try and throw dirt down. But when her turned around, Stan's eyes caught Kyles. His eyes were bloodshot, and his cheeks were streaked with tears, fresh ones traveling over dried lines, keeping his face constantly wet. The look was pleading, from what Stan seemed to see. He also thought Kyle was walking towards him, but he was actually in a stumbly jog.  
Before he knew it, Kyle had buried himself into Stan's chest, loud sobs wrecking his body as he clung to him like he might fly off.  
Stan just stood, arms pinned to his side and eyes like saucers. Where the hell did this come from? First he's threatening him, now he won't let go of him. Kyle had always acted like some hormonal girl, but then he remembered what his mom said, which made him look over to her. Her hand was at her mouth at the sight of them, eyes welling with tears.  
So Stan dragged him away, gently shushing him as they walked. Kyle quivered in his arms, exhaling shaky breaths after holding it for what felt like minutes.  
They skipped the rest of the service, and Ike had found them around Randy's grave, wiping tears from his cheeks and letting them know Gerald was leaving. Kyle knelt down, wiping Ike's tears with the pads of his thumbs and telling him to stay in Kyle's car. "I'll be there in a minute. I need to talk to Stan, okay?" He smiled at his brother, holding in more tears he hadn't cried yet.  
"Can I stay?"  
"No, bud. Here, start the car, put some tunes on." Kyle handed him his keys with another smile.  
Ike responded with a nod and a wet laugh as he wiped his nose with the sleeve of his jacket. He then turned and ran towards where all the cars were parked after waving Stan goodbye.  
Kyle stood back up, eyeing Stan with a sniffle. "I'm sorry."  
"For what?" Stan stepped forward, but the other teen retreated, moving his foot in the direction of Ike.  
He hesitated to respond, clearly thinking of something to say. His eyes roamed over Stan's face for a few seconds, eyebrows furrowed. "For what I said earlier." He took a breath with a smirk. "I meant every word, though."  
Stan frowned, "what was the point of the apology, then?"  
"Because.." He paused, faltering. Tears began to pool again, but he shook his head with a laugh, rubbing at his eyes. "I don't know. I thought it was the right thing.. Look at me. Not knowing what to say…"  
"There's a first." Stan smirked, eyeing his mother who began to draw nearer. "I'm sorry, too."  
"I have to go-"  
"Will you be at the game?" Stan perked up when he turned.  
Kyle quirked a brow. "Probably not. Depends on Gerald." He then waved.  
He disappeared into his car when his mother reached him, and he continued to watch his car roll out of the yard. "Ready to go?"  
Stan took in a steady breath, his lungs burning from the frigid air. "Yeah, let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make this a Jewish funeral sorry if things are wrong..


	4. 4

The locker room he had to be crammed into was unreasonably full. With teammates, but also with people who shouldn't be there.  
He threw off his shirt, discreetly eyeing the locker room. Clyde was dragging Bebe into one of the bathrooms by her wrist. There was a wicked smirk on her shimmery lips, and a giggle left her lips.  
He groaned, growing impatient. He knew Wendy had to be around here somewhere. Thankfully, she appeared hanging around Nicole, discussing some bullshit about the school. Their eyes locked, and he smirked.  
Before he knew it, he was sinking into her with a deep groan. Wendy clawed at his shoulders, digging into the fading bruise Craig had left from Wednesday. It had numbed, bringing out a burst of pleasure that bloomed from his shoulder to his balls, spreading like wildfire.  
She struggled to hold back her moans, burying her made up face into the crook of his neck where she smeared foundation and a deep red lipstick across his collarbone.  
He was always rough before a game. He'd push her up onto the sink in the girls bathroom, pull aside the panties she wore _just for him,_ and then smother her. They had once broken a mirror, and pulled the sink from the brick wall. No one ever said anything, thankfully.  
_"Stan, hurry up,"_ Wendy whispered breathlessly, grinding against him. He quickened at her words, hoisting her legs up around his shoulders and pressing her into the mirror.  
_"I'm goin', give me a sec.."_ He grunted out between gritted teeth, catching the drool that began to pool around his lips. _"Are you close?"_  
_"Yeah, yeah, keep going.. Mph.."_ As she spoke, he heard his coach push open the heavy doors into the locker room, immediately calling for Marsh.  
Wendy flinched at the sound of his coach, causing her hips to role. "F-fuck, yeah, just like that-" Stan gurgled out.  
He came, sputtering to pull out of her the second time she moved her ass against his thighs. He breathed hard to catch his breath, eyeing Wendy as she wordlessly cleaned up.  
"Did you-"  
"No, Stan." She glared, but shook her head with an apologetic smile. "I'm fine, though. I'm going on a date with-"  
"Eric, I know." He held back his gag, replacing it with a tight smile as he tucked himself away haphazardly. "Have fun with that." Then he left, waving down his coach after flicking away the sweat from his forehead.  
They discussed the plan, reorganizing and giving a silent prayer everything happens. He was dismissed with a sharp nod, but Clyde pulled at his shoulder, slipping a small baggy into his clammy hands.  
"Kenny said to give this to you." Clyde's eyes twitched, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Don’t mention me if you're gonna pass this shit around."  
Stan smirked. "Dude, calm down." He slapped the others shoulder, already clad with his pads. "Makes playing way easier."  
Clyde pulled back slightly, "…really?"  
"Yes, dude. David uses it, too."  
Clyde sighed with a shake of his head. "Nah, dude. Hope you get your best throw."  
"And your best run," Stan quickly added with a smile.  
"Yeah, thanks."  
He rushed into the bathroom after checking the time and took down two quick sniffs with his car keys, scrunching his nose to hold back a sneeze.  
After he got dressed, coach said some "inspirational" words before ushering them towards the exit, slapping each ass on the way out.

***

_NOW ENTERING THE FIELD, THE SOUTH PARK HIGH SCHOOL COWS_  
Cheers erupted from the stands, causing Stan to run faster, breaking into large leaps and skips as he hyped up his crowd. The group of teens that gathered upfront called themselves _The Pit._ They throw random shit around every game, like baby powder and dollar store streamers while banging against Home Depot buckets with broken lacrosse sticks and sometimes dildos. The main three used to be right in the front, cheering Stan on the entire time. Kyle was always the loudest. That’s also where Kenny made his most money, and where Cartman could actually score pussy from freshman chicks who somehow didn't know who he was.  
Kyle stopped sitting in The Pit once Ike starting coming with him.  
But today, Cartman, Kenny, Ike _and_ Kyle were seen, pushed all the way against the bars. Kenny was holding up a large cutout of Stan's drunken face after he puked one night at some party he had forgotten about, while Ike and Cartman held up another longer sign that said _'KICK SOME ASS MARSH'_ and in smaller print under it read faggot.  
Stan pulled off his helmet, yelling out at the top of his lungs "FUCK YOU, CARTMAN" which made the entire crowd light up in laughter. He called him out before every game.  
It fully kicked in that this was his very last high school game when he came up behind his center. A smile grew on his lips and his heart rate steadily increased, sending a buzzing sensation around his body. He would make this game his best one yet.  
The first two quarters were uneventful as both teams began warming up to the game. Halftime came and went with a few short texts from Kyle that consisted of _'yeah cartman wont stfu rn. tips?'_  
And now they were six minutes into the fourth quarter. They were in the lead, **24-21** glared In bold red lights behind him, and Stan had never felt better in his life. The crowd still cheered every time something happened on the field, and whatever kind of coke this was, Kenny did a great job finding it.  
His eyes roamed over the stands, catching Kyle's. Ike waved like a madman, and Kyle smiled, teeth and all. Stan remembered his braces their Freshman year. It was mostly complaining and pictures of Kyle hiding and flipping off the camera.  
But he does have a Polaroid floating around in his room somewhere of him and Kyle on one of their mandatory Friday night sleepovers. It must've been three or four in the morning when he pulled out his dads old camera and snapped a quick picture before the other could retaliate. It was Kyle, with his head lying on Stan's bare chest, eyes closed, tongue out and lip curled up in a snarl, revealing the blue brackets around his top row of teeth. A request from Stan. He'd have to find it when he got home.  
"Marsh! Le's go!" He heard his coach from the sidelines, snapping him back from his euphoric daydreaming. And he was off with a sharp _HUT._  
He traveled back, eyes out for Clyde, and that stupid sticker filled helmet. Donovan's arms were up, pulling his jersey with him to reveal the lip of chub he could never get rid of. He pulled his arm back, muscles taught with a wild smile. This will be his best throw.  
With a snap, the ball went flying. Soaring threw the dark sky illuminated by the tall floodlights that continued to blind him throughout the night. Everyone went silent, eyes on the ball as it began to descend right to Clyde. When it landed, Clyde was between the twenty and thirty markers. The crowd erupted as soon as Clyde turned and sprinted, pumping his legs as they carried him across the rest of the field.  
Stan still stood in his follow through position, eyes on Clyde. And he almost didn’t feel the thud into his side as one of the opposing players rammed into him, knocking him to the ground and keeping him caught under his weight. This was the only reason Stan couldn't deal with the typical Football Blockhead. When one fell, they all fell.  
In a matter of seconds, three or four few hundred pound jocks had pinned him to the ground, crushing his lungs. A scream erupted from him, startling everyone on top of him and himself.  
It felt like hours before they were pulled off, leaving Stan lying on the fake, prickly grass in a very awkward position with his right arm pinned behind his back.  
"Marsh, Marsh, you okay, bud? Everything feelin' good?" His coach swarmed, swatting away wandering eyes as he tried to help him up.  
"Yeah, I feel good, my legs are good, I can still play-"  
"Holy shit-" Coach gagged, shooting his gaze away as medics filtered in.  
"Wha-" Stan flexed his pinned arm, stretching it out in front of him.  
It was red. Just red, really. Nothing seemed graphic. But everyone was making it seem worse that it felt. So he turned his arm, checking to see if anything else was out of place.  
As he turned his arm, a growing stick of white began poking out. His stomach lurched. The bone was completely _outside_ of his arm, yet still sticking upright. There was distant yelling from the crowd, and green eyes flooded his vision, screaming _"Don't move, you'll be okay,"_  
_"Don’t close your eyes, Stan!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is more of a filler/transition into the bigger picture of the story. really just full of important details that come into play for the "second act" if you will. and yeah sorry not sorry for the cheesy ass ending :)


	5. Chapter 5

Surprisingly, the first thing he could feel was something warm in his hand.  
_Then_ the pain kicked in. His chest dipped into itself when he dragged in a shaky breath, releasing a noise loud enough it vibrated his nerves, which startled the body next to him. The warmth from his palm left, causing his eyes to start to peel open.  
The light was _blinding,_ and whoever the hell was talking needed to stop.  
"Urg, sh' up.." His head spun as he tried to sit up, pain racking through his body.  
"Jesus Christ, Stan- _stop it!"_ Kyle's shrill whispers cut through his brain like a hot knife. He reached forward, feeling for his moving lips to try and stop him. "You're going to hurt yourself again, _knock it off!"_  
Small hands pressed into his pecs, gently pushing him back down into the uncomfortable bed. Where was he?  
"Where'm I?" He tried to gurgle out, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. "Wha'd I do?"  
"You're okay, just relax, Stan." Kyle successfully got him back down, reaching for the water next to them. "Here, open up."  
Icy water hit his gums, sending a quick shiver through his body. His eyes rolled back, overtaken by relief. Kyle chuckled when he pulled away, watching as Stan drooled down the side of his cheek.  
When Stan could finally open his eyes, he quickly scanned his surroundings. Something to his left beeped faster, making him groan. "What the fuck.."  
"You're in the hospital. Something happened Friday.." Kyle shrugged uncomfortably when Stan cocked an eyebrow. He looked down where the warmth had once been, but Kyle pointed to the other.  
His eyes went wide. A cast was stuck to him from his fingers to his elbow. He flexed his right hand, trying to bend his fingers. The most he could get to move were the tips, watching the flick from their confinement. He sucked in a breath before trying to get up again, pain yet again searing through him while Kyle protested loudly.  
"I gotta get outta 'ere." He spat through gritted teeth, throwing away the blanket with his good hand. He got his legs swung around, Kyle rushing around to stop him.  
"Stan, I swear to God!" Kyle held his shoulders back. Stan only pushed forward, ignoring how everything burned.  
"Get off'a me!" Stan's toes hit the ground, and he pushed himself off the bed.  
For a second there wasn't any pain, but then his heels hit the ground. His body convulsed, sending him forward.  
"Fuck- Stan!"  
There was a knock at the door and it swung open, a tall man behind it with his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose. "Mister Mar-" He paused, eyes wide at the sight.  
There stood the two; Kyle's knees shaking from holding up Stan's dead weight as Stan struggled to stand again. _"GET 'IM OFF ME!"_ Kyle shrieked, and the doctor rushed forward.  
When Stan was sitting (because he _refused_ to lay), Sharon walked in, cheeks pale and eyes red.  
"Mom-" Stan tried to stand again, but both Kyle and the doctor held him back. "What happened, mom?"  
A sob escaped her lips and she turned to leave the room again. Concern shot through him, numbing the pain enough to snap his head towards his doctor, looking feral. "What the fuck did you do?"  
Kyle stiffened, an apologetic smile on his lips. They were bitten and swollen, something Stan didn't miss. "I'm sorry, he's really out of it right now."  
"I know," the doctor cleared his throat before continuing. "Mister Marsh, we found- ehm, we found cocaine, on you."  
His heart dropped and he almost puked. "What do you mean _'on me'?"_ He snarled.  
"You tested positive on the drug test. Do you understand how serious this is, Mr. Marsh?"  
"I didn’t have any on me, and I barely had any-"  
"Stan, stop." Kyle jumped in, eyebrows narrowed. "So what you're saying is you took a random drug test?"  
"We noticed it in the blood work-"  
"Why would you need blood work? Miss Marsh told you everything you needed to know, and she thankfully had all the documents from past physicals and testing." Stan could almost see the steam coming off of him. "What you're telling me is that you were too busy taking random blood samples instead of giving him the immediate attention he needed?"  
"We needed to know everything we-"  
Kyle stopped him with his finger, and continued to hold it up as he crossed the room to a binder Sharon had brought with her.  
"In this binder is every single document from past tests and physicals. There are some in here that have _your signature."_ He flipped through some, showing the doctor -Stan still didn't know the name of- his own handwriting.  
"Well-"  
"We're done talking until we get a lawyer." His arms were crossed now, papers clutched in his hands.  
"Y-yeah, I want my lawyer." Stan chirped up, smiling at Kyle for approval. He got a glare in return.  
The doctor stumbled, gulping before swiftly leaving the room.  
"Dude, that was fucking awe-"  
"What the _fuck_ is wrong with you, Stan?!" Kyle turned, chest heaving. "What the fuck are you doing with _cocaine?!"_  
"I take it before every game-"  
"That is _not_ an excuse! You mother is worried _sick!"_ Kyle growled as he paced the room, visibly shaking. "You could go to _jail,_ Stan. JAIL!"  
"I didn't have it on me! And like you said, they didn't have my consent." He wanted to stand. He never liked when Kyle felt bigger than him. Especially when it came to legal stuff. Stan's dumb, not stupid.  
"Right.. Yeah, you weren't in possession, we could use that against them.." His pacing stopped when the door opened, revealing Sharon still distressed. "Hey, miss Marsh. How's Ike doing?"  
"He's sleeping now," she chuckled, keeping her eyes on the floor. "He has a strong vocabulary."  
"Yeah.. He's a genius but he's also a little shit.."  
A knock startled them, and two men stepped in. They wore white shirts with suspenders and fancy shoes that squeaked from the snow. Stan felt his stomach turn at the sight, stiffening to try and stand, but Kyle was there with a gentle grasp on his shoulder.  
"Stan Marsh?" One asked, his cold grey eyes blinking slowly as he began to shut the door. "We'd like a word, if you don't mind."  
The other grunted at the other two. "Alone.."  
"I'll go check on Ike. Let's go, Kyle." Sharon reached for the redhead, but he twisted, anger clearly present on his face.  
"Why are you here?" Kyle had always despised the South Park police enforcement, especially after one peculiar night down at Starks Pond. They were called by a noise complaint and it quickly escalated when they began searching Kyle's car without a warrant.  
"Kid-"  
"Whatever you need to say to him you can say in front of us." He growled, grasp tightening on Stan's shoulder. He wanted to pull away from the growing pain, but he knew Kyle would rather have his hand on the others' faces.  
"What, you two together er somethin'?"  
Stan jerked, but Kyle chuckled. "yeah, why, you gonna beat me for being gay?"  
The two recoiled, but straightened themselves with a shake of the head. "Fine, this doesn't need to be any harder than it already is."  
Stan shifted, making room for Kyle as he began to sit, eyes never leaving the two in front of them. Sharon had left, and was visible with Ike before one of the men closed the blinds. The room darkened.  
"Alright, boys." One, with greying brown hair pulled over a chair, sitting with his hands intertwined over his knees. He hunched forward, reeking of cigarettes and rum. "We're here to make a deal, of sorts." The gel in his hair failed to hold back a strand that fell over his forehead littered with wrinkles.  
"What is it?" Stan spoke up, eyebrows shooting up. Kyle continued to silently brew as he stared at the other officer who asked about their relationship. He was young and blonde, with a gross mustache over his upper lip.  
"We aren't going to press charges. We're willing to drop all of this, as well as clearing you school record." The man smirked, and Stan couldn't help but smile. His breath was caught in his throat, but Kyle nudged him, eyes wide as he gently shook his head. "All we need to know is who gave you the drugs."  
Their hearts dropped. Stan's stomach swirled more and Kyle held back his eyeroll.  
"I-I don't know-"  
"Bullshit, don't lie kid." Blondie spoke up, eyes narrowed in annoyance.  
"Why the _fuck_ are you here, Dipshit?" Kyle snapped, snarling at each other like rabid dogs.  
"You both can leave if you don't knock it off!" The brunette eyed them, watching them slowly back away. "There's an epidemic. People are dying more because of drugs laced with deadly diseases and contamination. We have to know, kid."  
Kyle and Stan eyed each other. There's no way Kenny could be selling laced drugs. He's got 'the purest shit.' Or what he says… "Kyle.." Stan started, chewing at his lip, "what do I say..?"  
"Listen." Kyle turned to face the officer, "We know some people.. But, it's not them.." Kyle swallowed hard when they began to move closer.  
"We just need a name."  
"You promise to only question him. You can't arrest him." Stan pulled Kyle back as best he could with the cast. "He's taking care of a kid. He's got bills to pay and.. It's really his dad-"  
"Marsh, a name."  
He hesitated, not meeting Kyle's eyes this time.  
"Stuart. Stuart McCormick.. H-he's the one growing it and making it. He's making his kids distribute it. Kenny has nothing to do with this-"  
"That's all we needed to know. We'll keep in touch." There was a nasty smile on the man's lips as he handed him a small card. Andrew _'Andy'_ Ellington. The other didn't have a card.  
"Why would you say his name..?" Kyle turned to him after they left, subconsciously picking at his nails. Stan reached forward, pulling his hands apart.  
"They have to know he's not part of it-"  
"That doesn't matter, he's eighteen. He's an adult."  
"When they see what's _really_ happening in that house, they'll know."  
"Kyle?" Ike stood in the doorway, peaking in at the two. They both turned, but there it was.  
Stan looked down, but Kyle retracted, standing and pulling Ike into a hug. "Let's go home, bud." He sighed as he spoke, ushering him out of the room. But he turned briefly, waving at Stan before leaving.  
That’s where the warmth came from.

**

The drive was silent, some commercial on the radio providing the white noise.  
"Do you think dad's home?" Ike turned, fiddling with his seat belt.  
"Yes. He's always home.." Kyle turned onto their street, chewing the inside of his cheek with a dull expression. _Six more months…_  
"What's for dinner?"  
"I don't know, Ike." Kyle rubbed at his forehead, pulling his hair back with a sigh. "I'll order a pizza or something."  
Ike was silent until they pulled into the driveway. Kyle reached for his phone and keys before Ike spoke up again. "Do you think Stan will be okay?"  
"You're a smart kid, Ike. What do you think." He stepped out of his car, slamming the door and entering the house, leaving Ike to sit and stare.  
"Where have you been?" Gerald grunted from behind a newspaper.  
"What, you actually want to know? Or did you just need another beer?" Kyle continued to the kitchen, toying with his phone as he dialed one of the pizza placed he had memorized.  
"I don't need you attitude-"  
"Oh, _I'm sorry, daddy._ Is there something I can get you? Or could you shut the fuck up for, like, five minutes while I get Ike something to eat?" He pressed the call button and held his phone up to his ear. "Because God forbid you try and be a father again."  
"You little-"  
Kyle held up his hand, leaning against the wall as Gerald approached him. On the line they could hear a girl in a cheery voice _"Hi, this is Domino's, what can I get ya?"_  
"You wanna do this right now?" Kyle whispered, watching Gerald. Ike had finally walked in, and Gerald stormed off, upstairs and into his office. Ike eyed Kyle, eyes wide while Kyle only smiled, answering the girl on the phone and ordering for him and Ike, as well as adding a two liter of Orange pop. Ike smiled.  
They sat on the couch together, the TV drowning out whatever Gerald was doing.  
"Did he hit you?" Ike looked up at his brother, cheeks pale.  
"No, Ike. I'm okay." He cocked an eyebrow, "don't worry about me, okay?"  
Ike bit the inside of his cheek, focusing back on the TV. "Okay."  
Their pizza came, and they ate in silence.  
Kyle sent him up to brush his teeth before bed, tucking him in and leaving for his own room.  
He stripped in the dark, his knuckles brushing over his sides as he whipped his shirt into one of the corners of his room. He should shower, scratching at his hair as he slid under the covers.  
A sigh escaped his lips as his sheets crawled over his nude body, eyes rolling from the sudden friction.  
He hasn't been able to touch himself since his mom got diagnosed. Too busy running around during the day and unable to sleep at night. Eleven PM would turn to five AM in what felt like minutes while lying and starring at the ceiling.  
But tonight, he sat up, blindly digging around in his nightstand for a small bottle.  
Falling back into his mattress gripping the almost empty bottle of lube, he ran his free hand down his chest, thumbing his nipples as his dick twitched.  
Popping the lid and squeezing out what was left onto his hardening cock, he used his right hand to pump himself, breath hitching at the sudden contact. He was hot and heavy in his palm as he stroked in rolls of his wrist. It was slow at first; teasing, nudging at the head, squeezing at the base. But he started thrusting up, clenching his jaw as his eyes rolled closed.  
He usually didn't need anything to get himself off, only using what he's experienced. Porn was always too much, and he ended up just watching to criticize after a while. But he liked the noise. The heavy breathing, the wet sounds, and _especially_ the moaning. He went crazy when he moaned by himself. It was hot, being able to express the amount of ecstasy he was in. And it was even better when his partner did, too.  
Tonight, though, he didn't need anything. He hated to admit it, but tonight Stan was on his mind. He really shouldn't be. He's a dick. But.. He moaned in his sleep. From pain, sure. But _fuck_ if it wasn't hot.  
He jerked faster, tugging at himself with a new found hope. Every time Stan moved, a yelp erupted from him, deep and guttural. He couldn't help imagine Stan making these noises as he hovered over him, slamming into him with enough force to rock his bed. It sent shivers down his spine, making him pull harder.  
Before he knew it, he bit into his fist as white ropes decorated his stomach. A shaky moan eventually escaped him as he came down, eyelids blinking open to his dark room. Cleaning up his mess with a tissue, he turned on his side and closed his eyes, guilt pooling in his stomach. He pulled an extra pillow into his chest, holding it close as sleep rolled over him.


	6. 6

Morning seemed like it came early in the Broflovski household, sunlight littering his shoulders as he pushed back the blankets. There was a dull but persistent knocking coming from downstairs, causing him to scurry around his room to throw clothes on. He prayed it hadn't woken Gerald up, but the knocking grew louder.  
He swung the door open, eyebrows creased. "W- Cartman-"  
"C'mon, I don’t have time for greetings." His hand shot forward, grasping at Kyles shirt and pinning him against the siding, closing the door as he did.  
"Y-you can't be here- Gerald-" He mumbled against his lips, pushing at his body as the other grinded against him.  
"Jesus, if you're gonna complain then get in my fucking car." Eric growled into Kyle's neck, biting and sucking until it felt like it was bleeding. He whimpered, helplessly pushing at the large boy on top of him.  
"Eric, I don’t want to-" He held in a whine, eyes blurring at the force, "I can't right now."  
"Too bad-" Before Eric could continue with whatever he had in store for Kyle, the front door swung inward, revealing Gerald bewildered behind a pair of bifocals. The suddenness of his appearance startled Cartman, making him drive his thigh along Kyles groin, erupting a moan from him.  
"Shit, mister Brofl-"  
"What the _hell_ is this?!" Cartman was already one foot into his truck, the engine roaring and backing from his driveway.  
With a swift movement, Gerald had a fistful of Kyle's shirt, yanking him back inside the house with a fiery look in his eye. "S- let go of me! It's not what it looks like!-"  
"It's _exactly_ what is looks like." The older man paused, gripping his shirt tighter to bring him closer. "I didn't raise my son to be a fucking _faggot!"_  
Kyle was throw to the ground, hip crashing onto the corner of the couch with a sick crack. _"FUCK_ you! Don't try and hide behind me like you haven't done anything!" He pulled himself up, fist clenched as he pointed a deadly finger at his father's face. "I've seen what you do. What you _did._ With Randy. You're not sneaky, you're fucking stupid-"  
He found himself back on the ground, elbow crashing into the coffee table with a burning sting below his right eye that spread across his entire cheek. Tears sprung to his eyes, shooting his eyes back towards his father. His hand was still open, shaking and still tense. His lip twitched in disgust, and struck down again, whacking Kyle across his left cheek with the back of his hand.  
He recovered quickly, a yelp erupting from him when Gerald flinched once again. Kyle found himself frantically pushing himself back, kicking his feet as he advanced. His arm rose again, but a scream from the stares interrupted the two.  
He knew he shouldn't look. Shouldn’t take his eyes off of Gerald in case he decided to kill him on the spot. But Ike's squeaky voice broke him more than the pain he experienced in the past few seconds. His head snapped towards his little brothers, who's cheeks were soaked in tears and body was trembling. Before Kyle could get a word out, Gerald pulled him up from the collar of his shirt and pinned him to the wall, forearm squeezing his throat closed. He choked himself by screaming out to Ike, something along the lines of 'go back upstairs.' But Ike only surged forward, ripping at Gerald's arm.  
Gerald swung, pushing Ike away in the process. Kyle retaliated, coughing as Gerald pressed harder against his throat, bringing his free hand up and swinging with as much force his left hand could give him. There was a gross crunch as his knuckles connected with his nose.  
His right arm loosened just enough after the hit for Kyle to slip out and drag himself and Ike upstairs.  
"Pack. Get a bag o-o-or something and just-" Kyle stuttered, glancing behind them to see Gerald at the end of the stairs.  
"Your nose-" Ike trembled, tears pooling in his eyes.  
"It's _fine-_ go!" Kyle pushed his little brother into his room, shutting the door behind him and telling him to lock it as he rushed to his own.  
Time slowed for a moment, and the only thing Kyle could hear was his shaky breathing rattling his ears. He blinked a few times, clearing his eyes from fresh tears the stung his cheeks when they fell. He needed to move, needed to pack and get the fuck out of this house, but his body shook violently, causing him to fall against his door and slide down, hiding his face behind his knees and sobbing furiously. His tongue darted out, sweeping his lips and getting hit with a strong metallic taste. The back of his hand gently ran under his nose, dragging the liquid across his cheek.  
He heard a knock from across the hall, signaling Ike was done. He wiped his face, flinching at the pain and pushing himself up. He found an old duffle bag he used for camping hidden up in his closet. After trashing his room, he was able to pack his clothing necessities along with a few hoodies. He also repacked his school bag, tossing the few water bottles he had on his nightstand in as well.  
He knocked on his own door before slowly creaking it open, spotting Ike doing the same. He nodded towards his little brother, stepping out with both of his bags. With wide eyes, Kyle forced Ike behind himself, listening for any sudden movement before advancing towards the stairs. The TV was on downstairs, and a beer tab snapped opened, causing Kyle to physically jump. They stepped down the stairs, Kyle breathing hard as he held his brother close. He knew his grip was tight on the boys shoulder, but the contact calmed him just enough not to sprint towards the door.  
At the end of the steps, the ground squeaked. Kyle let a curse slip under his breath, and his eyes locked onto Gerald's, who stood in the doorway connected to the kitchen, beer in hand.  
They stood like that for a few seconds, watching each other like wild animals. Kyle pushed at Ike, mumbling "walk to the car" while slowly backing up.  
The door clicked closed, and Gerald took a step towards his oldest, eyebrows creased. Kyle stumbled back, snatching his keys hanging from the wall and reopening the door.  
**"Stay the fuck away from us."**  
He unlocked the car, throwing their bags into the back and starting his car, immediately rolling back from the driveway. He glanced at the door one last time, watching Gerald sip from his can before flooring it down the road. 

**

He needed to keep it together as he drove around each neighborhood, looking for Stan's truck. His eyes would blur every now and then, which he would aggressively wipe away and focus back on the road. Ike stared out the window, watching the passing houses in silence.  
Kyle offered music, McDonalds, the mall, everything, But Ike stayed mute and only shook his head. So, he drove around every neighborhood in hopes of finding a white Ram.  
His chest heaved, and his body ached. His knuckles were still white around the wheel, shoulders still defensively tight. They had passed multiple houses, but a route he took in particular made him sputter behind the wheel. They rolled past both the Donovan and the Valmer residence, sparking a random memory he had put away deep within his brain. It made his stomach lurch, burning his cheeks more.  
"Are you okay..?" Ike suddenly spoke up, poking at Kyle's bicep.  
"Wh- yeah, why?"  
Ike looked around before turning back to him. "Because you stopped in the middle of the road…"  
Kyle glanced around, realizing he's been staring at the sidewalk a few feet after the Valmer's front door. He shook his head, pressing on the gas again with a frown. "Sorry… I'm fine."  
After a few more go arounds, they had finally found the new Marsh residence. A sigh involuntarily left his chewed up lips, relief spreading though his veins. "Wait here for a second," Kyle put the car in park and practically sprinted towards the front door, knocking frantically until someone answered.  
"Kyle? Hey hun, what's going on?" Sharon had pulled the door open wide, eyes scanning him with worry etched into her features. "Oh my God, your face-"  
He broke. His knees gave out as a scream of a sob wreaked his throat. "I'm sorry," His face met with a soft fabric, which he quickly melted into. A hand rubbed up his spine, soothing his shaking.  
"Where's Ike, sweetheart?" Sharon kept her voice still, despite the pounding of her heart. Kyle weakly pointed towards the car, and ushered his little brother out. The door slammed shut and Ike came sprinting up, clinging to the two.  
They were gently moved inside the house and placed on the couch. Kyle took a breath, holding Ike to his side as he silently cried.  
"Oh, sweetie, your face," She backed into the kitchen, retrieving a bag of frozen mix vegetables for him, "It's bruised, and bloody- what happened?" She retreated back to the kitchen, letting the faucet run as he spoke  
He wiped at his remaining tears, mentally cursing at himself for his slip up. "T-things got, uhm.. Hectic, I guess.." He cleared his throat, pulling Ike into his side. "It's nothing, we just need to get outta dodge." He forced a chuckle, eyeing the windows. The sun was already beginning to set. _Maybe we should've just left…_  
Sharon returned with a steaming damp washcloth, which she held out to him. "Kyle…" she started, head tilting slightly. "What happened?"  
He swallowed, rubbing at his irritated neck with a gulp of air. "Gerald.. He-" His voice broke. Keep it together. No more tears. He glanced down at Ike, who had already fallen asleep against his shoulder. His hand found the youngers head, massaging through the thin strands of black hair as he sighed. "He found me with someone and things got.. Messy. Some slurs were thrown around, which I assume you already guessed.." He bit the inside of his cheek, smirking slightly with creased eyebrows, "Today, of all days…" But he shook his head, straightening his back. "I hate to intrude, really. We just needed a place to stay for the night."  
"For the night?" Sharon asked, giving Kyle a chance to wipe away the dried blood from his cheek. "You're leaving..?"  
"My original plan was to try and get a job and apartment here.. But, uhm, my time's been cut short." He rubbed his eyes with the clean side of the cloth, "I have some family that might help down in California.. But I've also been saving. We'll be okay with whatever gets throws at us.."  
Sharon stood, shaking her head. "No, no, absolutely not. You'll stay here while we sort everything out." Her eyes softened at his expression. "I want you to finish high school. You've come too far to just up and leave, risking your education."  
Tears sprung to his eyes for the upmost time today, but he let them fall, a small smile on his lips. "Thank you… So much,"  
"Let me set up the spare rooms. Stan's upstairs, and he's probably awake, if you'd like to see him." She ascended the stairs, leaving the two on the couch. Ike stirred awake, rubbing his eyes.  
"Why don't you go help Miss Marsh upstairs, I'll grab our bags."  
When he came back in, the downstairs was still empty, so he placed their bags by the couch, creeping up the stairs and searching for any souls. He immediately spotted Stan's room, his door decorated in football things he acquired throughout his years, but a large poster took up most of the space. It was of him standing with his arms crossed and straight faced for his senior quarterback shoot. His picture was posted all around school, of course he needed one in his own home. He smirked with a shake of his head, slowly creaking his door open.  
Stan was awake, as Sharon had said, eye's barely focused on the TV across the room. "Hey, mom." He mumbled out, not bothering to look up.  
"Hi, sweetie." Kyle deadpanned, killing the smile that began to grow on his cheeks at the boys reaction. Stan snapped his head over to his door, struggling to widen his eyes.  
"Kyle? What are you doing here?"  
Kyle cleared his throat, avoiding his gaze. "Uh.. Stopping by, seeing how you're doing…"  
Stan reached over, flicking on is lamp, spitting out 'bullshit,' with a grin. It illuminated his room, revealing Kyle's face to the other. The ginger rubbed his neck and looked away when Stan's grin fell. "What the hell, your face- are you okay?"  
"Yeah, it's nothing-"  
"It's not nothing, what happened?" Stan sat up more, crossing his legs with a grunt as he made more room for the other.  
Kyle hesitantly shuffled over, pushing a curl behind his ear as he sat at the foot of his bed, right leg tucked under him. "Gerald.. He, uhm."  
Stan's eyebrows narrowed and a puff of air was forced from his nostrils. His mouth opened, but Kyle raised his hands. "It's fine, we're out of the house now. And he doesn’t know where we are."  
"He probably does, we're best.." Stan's words fell short, eyes slowly lifting up to Kyles. "I guess not.."  
Kyle gritted his teeth, chewing the inside of his cheek. "Yeah, I guess not."  
"Kyle-"  
There was a gentle knock at the door, Sharon on the other side with a small smile. "Hey, Kyle, I've got your bed all made up, the showers' open if you'd like."  
Kyle's heart dropped slightly. "Shit.." he muttered, eyes falling closed. "I left all the toiletries-"  
"It's fine, we have plenty of extras. Just use the soap in there."  
A sigh escaped him, dragging all the energy out of his weakened body. His shoulders slumped forward, eyelids drooping with a gentle "okay, miss Marsh.."  
He felt Stan's eyes on him as his body drifted towards the door frame, floating across the hall and into what looked like Stan's bathroom. He turned on the shower faucet, steam slowly filling the room as he stripped.  
Once in, he let the boiling water cascade down his body, lulling his eyes closed as he blindly reached for some shampoo. His fingers grazed over a bar of soap, and then one singular bottle, causing him too peak.  
"Three in one body wash…" he muttered to himself, popping the lid and squirting some unhealthy looking blue goop into the palm of his hand. "Wonderful."  
When he got out, the clothes he was wearing before were now gone, and replaced with two warm towels and a pair of his sweats. He smiled, also finding a note next to the sink. _'your room is the last door on the right, get some sleep.'_ He silently thanked whoever would hear him for miss Marsh's existence before slipping into his pants and wringing his hair dry.  
Exiting, he got a look into Stan's room, the light from the bathroom casting his shadow on the wall next to him. He was on his back looking as uncomfortable as ever. Kyle smirked, remembering a conversation they had early one morning after Stan woke up on his stomach. He told him he shouldn't sleep like that and how socks and tennis balls will keep him from rolling over.  
As he walked down the hall, the door across his was cracked, revealing Ike tucked into a bed four times the size of him cuddled into the extra comforter and blankets he talked Sharon into getting for him. He crept in, tucking him in a bit more a placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.  
He finally made his way into his own room, his bags emptied and neatly tucked under the bed. He crawled under the covers, moaning in delight as the mattress easily molded to his body.  
He was out within seconds, left to dream about the future.


End file.
